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by savedby



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-13
Updated: 2017-08-13
Packaged: 2018-12-14 21:23:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11791740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/savedby/pseuds/savedby
Summary: Zach is going to wear whatever Dylan picks out for him.Dylan could make Zach look ugly, if he wanted to. Treat it all as a joke. They’d laugh about it a little and then let it go, just bros. That’s what he should do.But.





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**Author's Note:**

  * For [thermocline](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thermocline/gifts).



> This is for S. I love you lots. 
> 
> Features some d/s elements, as well as an undernegotiated kink.

 

 

“Can you hurry up? We promised the boys we’d be there ten minutes ago,” Dylan says, fiddles impatiently with his buttons on his shirt,

 

Zach makes a noise where he’s sprawled across his dorm bed. It sounds like a ‘no’. A petulant one. He gets like that sometimes.

 

Dylan sighs and grabs a pillow off his bed. He walks over to Zach, considers him for a moment, then smacks him, hard. Zach lets out a high noise and curls up, convulsing with giggles as Dylan keeps hitting him.

 

Eventually Dylan stops and Zach rolls onto his back, grinning. It makes his shirt ride up, almost all the way up his chest, revealing skin Dylan finds himself distracted by. It’s been happening more and more often, and in the most inconvenient times.

 

“C’mon, Zach, move” he says, swallowing after, because his voice comes out a little hoarse. 

 

“I’m going, I’m going,” Zach grumbles, and stumbles onto his feet, heading towards the dorm room door, looking like Dylan is practically forcing him into it, which is ridiculous, since it was Zach that organized the outing in the first place.

 

“You’re going like that?” Dylan asks, nodding at Zach’s outfit. Zach stops and squints at him, and then down at his outfit.

 

“What’s wrong with it?” he asks.

 

The short answer is 'everything’. Zach’s wearing an old tank top, cut out of an old shirt with a faded team logo. It’s definitely sized for someone smaller, hanging like a particularly ugly crop top on Zach’s frame. The edges are frayed. His sweatpants have holes in them.

 

Dylan raises an eyebrow.

 

Zach flushes. “It’s not like you’re some model either.”

 

“None of my clothes have holes in them,” Dylan points out, then glances down at his skinny jeans, “none that aren’t supposed to be there, anyway.”

 

Zach sighs. “You’re so demanding,” he says. “If you’re so stylish, why don’t you just choose my clothes for me.”

 

“Fine,” Dylan says, shrugs, and heads towards Zach’s closet. He’s pretty much willing to do anything if it’ll get them out of the dorm quicker.

 

“Not the penis costume,” Zach warns. Dylan grins, but obediently changes direction.

 

For someone that’s usually a barely functioning disaster, Zach is surprisingly meticulous about doing his laundry. This is especially baffling since he only seems to consistently wear three outfits, not including his parade of worn out sweatpants and T-shirts in various states of disrepair. 

 

Confronted with all the possibilities in Zach’s closet, Dylan is forced to take a minute to regroup. This is bad, because it means he starts thinking about what he’s doing. 

 

Zach is going to wear whatever Dylan picks out for him and that’s...that’s making him feel something. Dylan tugs on his collar to loosen in.  It’s already sweltering in the dorm room because it’s the start of summer and in the middle of a particularly strong heatwave, but somehow the temperature seems to skyrocket.

 

Dylan could make Zach look ugly, if he wanted to. Treat it all as a joke. They’d laugh about it a little and then let it go, just bros. That’s what he should do.

 

But.

 

Dylan chances a look back at Zach. He isn’t watching Dylan. Instead, he’s sitting on the edge of the bed, eyes on the floor, hands folded demurely in his lap.

 

Dylan takes a careful breath and turns back to the closet.

 

He selects a pair of dark jeans he’s seen Zach wear before and fill out well. None of the tops seem appropriate, until he spots the edge of a shirt tucked into one of the corners of the closet. Dylan’s never seen Zach wear anything like it before. He takes it down and unfolds it, and realizes why.

 

It’s a tank top and the material is sheer white, almost transparent. If there wasn’t a price tag still on it, he’d think it was out of Matts’ closet, that’s how hipster it is.

 

Dylan rips the price tag off carefully and carries his selections over to lay it out on the bed next to Zach.

 

“Okay,” Dylan says, his mouth desert dry.

 

Zach turns to look at the clothes. Dylan watches his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows.

 

“I need underwear too,” Zach says.

 

It’s another out. A moment where Dylan could make a joke out of the situation, chirp Zach about going commando.

 

Instead, he heads back to the closet, selects a pair of black boxer briefs, tight and not too worn, and brings them over.

 

Zach stands up. He’s still staring at the clothes. He darts a look at Dylan from the corner of his eye, skitters away when he realizes Dylan is watching.

 

After a moment of consideration, he turns around and pulls of his shirt, then drops his pants.

 

It spares Dylan the view of his front, but the sight of Zach’s back, slowly developing muscle definition and the pale round moon of his ass, has Dylan swallowing down a noise. They’re practically trained to look away in the locker room, unless it’s a joke and Dylan’s been so careful.

 

He doesn’t look away now, though. It doesn’t feel like a joke.

 

Zach dresses. Because he’s looking, Dylan notices his hands tremble as he does.

 

The heat in the room is suffocating. 

 

“I’m ready,” Zach says.

 

“Okay.”

 

They’re quiet all the way downstairs and through the uber ride to the club.

  
  


*

  
  


Zach knows he looks good. A few people seem to think so too, because they gravitate towards him, trying to catch his eye.

 

He dances with a few of them. He’s aware of what he’s wearing, more than usual.

 

The boxer briefs are tight around his ass, but not uncomfortable. The white top turns transparent in the neon lights, and he might as well be wearing nothing with how little it leaves to imagination.

 

Zach catches sight of Dylan between dances, between drinks. Always finds him watching, his eyes dark and liquid in the flashing lights.

 

Eventually, Zach grows bored of dancing, of trying to catch Dylan’s eye, and he drifts back to the table and the company. He can’t seem to stay still though, fidgeting in his seat and pulling at the edge of his shirt. The cold condensation of the beer bottle almost feels like it hurts.

 

Dylan puts a hand on his knee, a heavy too-warm weight, and that helps, for a little bit.

 

When he starts fidgeting again, Dylan stands up, says, “We’re going,” and the undertone of command has Zach scrambling upwards, saying goodbyes over the questions from the rest of their table. 

 

They’re quiet through the car ride. They’re quiet up the stairs. They’re quiet when they come into the dorm room.

 

“Are you going to choose my sleep clothes too?” Zach asks, and doesn’t recognize his voice. It’s hot in the room, but he feels himself shivering.

 

Dylan just looks at him for a moment. Takes a deep breath. 

 

“Take your shirt off,” he says. Zach is obeying before he can think about it properly, pulling it over his head and letting it drop from his fingers to pool on the floor.

 

“Take off your pants,” Dylan says. When Zach hesitates a moment over the button, he adds, “tell me if I’m reading this wrong.”

 

Zach drops his pants and Dylan makes a soft noise, a swallowed gasp. Zach knows what he’s looking at.

 

He’s had a wet spot growing in his underwear since he put it on and the fabric doesn’t do anything to conceal how hard he is.

 

His fingers hook in the waistband of his underwear and he looks up at Dylan for permission. He nods.

 

Zach pulls them off, and stands in front of Dylan, naked and shivering and harder than he’s ever been in his life.

 

“C’mere,” Dylan says, and Zach goes, into his outstretched arms.

 

Zach is the one who kisses him first though, clumsy and overeager, but Dylan doesn’t complain, slides his hand into Zach’s hair, directing his mouth where he wants it.

 

Dylan is still completely clothed where he slots his thigh between Zach’s legs, and the texture of his jeans feels incredible against his sensitive skin. Zach rubs against it, a moan rising in his throat.

 

“Go on,” Dylan says softly, cups Zach’s ass to.encourage him to move.

 

It doesn’t take long. Zach’s too worked up to even be embarrassed by it. 

 

After he finishes, Dylan walks him backwards to drop him onto the bed. Zach’s limbs are liquid with satisfaction and he watches with lazy anticipation as Dylan strips and walks over to straddle his chest.

 

Dylan groans when he touches his dick and Zach watches the shape of his palm around it as he jerks off, getting weirdly hypnotized by the movement, the soft sounds Dylan is making, the way he reaches up to cover his mouth when he gets too loud.

 

He covers Zach’s chest in strips of cum, and it feels so hot it burns.

 

Dylan collapses next to him, breathing hard. It’s a small bed, so they end up lying half on top of each other.

 

“Some outfit,” Zach comments. He runs his fingers through the come on his chest curiously, grimacing at the stickiness. He thought this’d feel more awkward somehow, but it doesn’t, lying with his head pillowed on Dylan’s shoulders carefully angling his body so the cum will drip on his shirt without him noticing.

 

Dylan puts on a faux announcer voice and says, “The designer calls this one ‘Covered in Cum’.”

 

Zach bursts out laughing, and he doesn’t stop until Dylan kisses him again. They kiss lazily for a while, long enough that Zach feels familiar with the shape of his mouth and the way he sounds, soft and overwhelmed, when Zach reaches down to fondle him a little.

 

Eventually, Dylan notices the stains on his shirt and frowns. “You ruined my favorite outfit,” he says.

 

Zach snorts. “I’m not sorry,” he says, snuggling closer. Dylan smells like sweat and sex, but so does Zach, so it’s fine.

 

Dylan rolls his eyes. “I don’t have any clean clothes now,” he says, “I’ll have to borrow some of yours tomorrow.”

 

Suddenly, there’s a lot less air in the room. Dylan must feel him stiffen because he grins.

 

“You like that, huh?” he says, and it isn’t a question, so Zach bites his tongue. Dylan runs his thumb over Zach’s cheek, soothing, and makes a thoughtful sound. “Okay,” he says, “we can do this.”

 

Zach closes his eyes and burrows impossibly closer, his mouth on Dylan’s collarbone, and he nods, just once. Yeah. They can do this. 

 

 

 


End file.
